Runaway Twilight
by NewLeaf
Summary: Edward's your average angsty teen boy, who just so happens to 'crash' his car into Bella, your not-so-average, mendacious teen runaway with a fetish for mint. Will love come from hate?
1. Prologue

AN: I probably owe you guys the biggest apology in the history of author's notes. Wait, scratch that, _I do_. Instead of writing 1001 reasons why I'm sorry for not updating, let me just tell you straight out. I've been working on an entirely new piece, and my friend/editor suggested changing the characters and making it a fanfic to see what kind of reviews I get. The whole story's finished, but I'm only going to put up a few chapters. Just please review and tell me if it's worth editing and submitting it to a literary agent. Or, better yet, tell me what you want me to edit. Thanks a lot, and I love you guys so much! xxxxx Summary:

Boy meets girl.

Boy meets girl by crashing his car into girl.

Boy meets girl by crashing his car into girl who was running away.

Boy meets girl by crashing his car into girl who was running away from everything. xxxxx Disclaimer: The character's names aren't mine. But everything else (ideas, words, phrases, peoples, places) is property of my imagination, and those little voices inside my head hate when people steal. Thanks. xxxxx

_Prologue- {Crashed}_

"Bitch!" The beer bottle missed my head by mere inches, shattering into an amber constellation across the wall. My hands instinctively reached up to protect my face, fearful of the menacing shards. I ran out the door with amazing speed and grace, my battered converse pushing me further along the paved runway as my eyes battled a swarm of tears. I blocked out his drunken voice yelling at me, commanding me to return. Hearing it only made my heart beat faster and my legs pump quicker.

My heart twisted in my chest, writhing. I choked on the pain; my lungs felt devoid of air. But my legs continued to move in robotic like strides. And as I ran, my thoughts drifted.

I didn't know where I was going. This moment was something I had often dreamed of. At night, I would lay awake, listening to the choleric and indignant venting of the inhabitants below me. Their voices would reach me like the long and sickly fingers of a nightmare that was always present. Battling dark thoughts, I would turn on my side and listen to the aria of my dream. I used to plan my escape beneath the piercing stars of the night sky. My main dream consisted of running away and never coming back, taking flight as easily as the birds that graced the sky. I would see all the places that the stars watched like an audience; I would see the world from a different perspective.

And now, it was so surreal for me. No matter the countless times I had imagined it, planned every detail of it, I never expected it to feel so remarkable and baffling.

My feet carried me far away from the limits of my town: through the traffic lights and busy streets, over the grass- both gnarled and clean cut. With each stride, my surroundings became more foreign, but I kept running.

I felt like wings had sprouted from my back, carrying me far away from where the source of my nightmares lay. But my flight wasn't in fear of those twisted days. It was in hope for better times.

xxxxx

He knew the party was never a good idea. As he surveyed his peers, all holding the trademark red plastic cups of alcohol, he grimaced. They were all drunk- dancing and laughing, throwing their lives away in one night. The house had been trashed: with each wave of beer came another broken item. The party was like every other hosted by the reckless teenagers of his town, and he hated them for that. They were the immature, unrealistic members of his school that thought life was just an extended party. He hated them for not being able to think as clearly as he could. Why couldn't they see that life was shit?

Throwing the empty cup to the ground, he headed for the door.

He took his car keys out of his pocket, vaguely aware that he wasn't supposed to be driving without someone legal next to him, and opened the door to his sleek, black, racing machine.

At that moment, he _needed_ to drive. He needed to feel the adrenaline coursing through his body like a drug as the car purred past 50 mph. He needed to feel that thump in his chest as he raced along the darkened roads that skirted the outside of his town.

He needed to go, and fast.

He took his car tactically along the less traveled roads, attempting to evade any known police spots. It had taken a full month to map out where the squad cars would sit in wait, and he was now able to speed without getting caught.

The open air was extraordinarily refreshing. Gone were the sick smells of booze and sweat. Gone was the sweltering heat of the stuffy house. It was just he, the car, and the miles ahead.

He tried not to think about the party. He tried not to think how he had caught his girlfriend and his best friend half dressed and in a serious lip lock. Well, make it ex-girlfriend and ex-best friend. He frowned. He didn't care what they did anymore. Life was shit.

His foot itched to push the pedal harder and run his car straight out of the county, but he didn't. He knew that his grandparents would be extremely upset if he wasn't home by twelve, and Alice didn't like seeing him get into trouble. It wasn't helping that his case that his breath was tainted with beer. Even if it had only been an ounce, he knew it was illegal and his grandfather was a martinet. If he continued any further away from home, he knew that there would be a heavy price to pay: namely, his car. So, he made a u-turn and headed for town, only slowing when the woods grew too thick to see his surroundings. God knows a deer could run out of nowhere and ruin his perfect car. His C-class had been his father's possession, and was the only thing he had left of him besides troubling memories. He wasn't about to lose it to another crash.

Up ahead his headlights traced a blur on the road. It was too dark to try and figure out what it was, and by time he had, the object was moments from being crushed.

It was a girl.

He slammed on the brakes, the tires screeching out in protest as the car came to a stop, but his reaction time wasn't quick enough. The bumper hit her with enough force to knock her down.

"Shit!" He swore loudly, leaping out from the vehicle immediately, and reaching down to see if the girl was okay. Her limbs were thin and sprawled across the pavement like a broken toy. The sickening shades of green, purple, and blue poked out from beneath the over sized t-shirt and shorts. A nauseating mix of blood and mud caked her clothes. Her hair was wild: a frizzy net of brown that encircled her almond shaped face. When he caught sight of it, his breathing all but stopped.

Despite the dirt that scuffed her cheeks, and a faint hint of a scar near her hairline, he could tell she was nothing short of beautiful. Almost like a goddess, Aphrodite perhaps, descended from Mt. Olympus. A thick line of blood was dried on her delicate cheek where a cut had once been. He frowned.

What had happened to her? Was she beaten up and left for dead? Had she runaway from somewhere?

The possibilities were endless and gruesome. And then, there was the matter of what he should do to help her.

Should he call the police? Would she be able to make the drive to the hospital? Was she even alive? He detested the thought that he might've killed her; that he might've become like the scum who killed his parents. He wasn't a murderer: he was just a reckless teenager. Harmless, really.

The questions swirled angrily in his mind, and he shook his head, as if to clear it. Then, he reached down, tentatively taking her wrist in his hands, and checked for a pulse. It was there, although it was faint and slow.

He decided against calling 911. He didn't want to get in any more trouble, and, when he pulled out his cell phone, he found that it was dead. He would take her home and let his grandfather decide what would be best.

He scooped the fallen angel into his arms, gently carrying her over to the car and placing her in the passenger seat. Once she was strapped in, he hopped to the other side and pushed his car faster than he'd ever taken it. His surroundings all but blurred at the car's velocity. As he came to the small farmhouse in the middle of a sea of cornfields, he slowed his rapid pace. The wheels swerved into a parked position on the crumbling driveway before he dashed out of the car, took her in his arms, and carried her inside.

As he did, he grew nervous.

She hadn't woken up yet, although he could hear the light inhale and exhale of her breath in the silence of the night. And she was so light: were her bones hollow like a bird's? Was she mental? That would explain the scars and scrapes, but he doubted that anyone this beautiful could be. He couldn't stomach the thought that she was.

He carefully walked up the three wooden steps leading to the porch of his grandparent's farmhouse. Some of the brown wooded deck was splitting, and the yellow paint of the walls had long since faded. One of his grandmother's cats was dozing on the welcome mat, it's tawny fur matted with dirt. He nudged it gently to the side, shifted the girl's weight so she rested mostly on his shoulder, and opened the door with a quick twist.

"Edward?" The harried voice of his grandmother called. "Is that you?" She appeared from around the corner, her white bathrobe with pink flowers hugged her sagging frame; her glasses perched on her nose awkwardly. With her graying curly hair, sweet disposition, and baked goods to die for, she was loveable. Edward couldn't have asked for a better grandparent, and was extremely lucky to still have the both of his. But, when she was cross or upset- which she rarely was- she showed it. "Where have you been young man? Your grandfather and I were just about to call the police station."

When she finally got a full view of him-and the girl in his arms- she paused, her mouth dropping down in shock. "Oh my…" She whispered, her brown eyes wide behind the glass frames. Her voice faded easily into the hushed night.

Edward's eyes never strayed from the girl as he bore her to the kitchen and finally set her down on the scratchy, worn red cushions of the sofa. His arms seemed almost reluctant to let her go, as if she would shatter as soon as he set her down. His grandmother followed him, looking at her inquisitively. "What happened?" She asked to no one, the question dissolving into the air.

He shrugged in response, and she hurried from the room, returning with his grandfather. "What?" He asked gruffly. His eyes drifted down from his grandson to the girl lying on the couch.

"This some girl of yours?" When his grandson shook his head, his frown grew more pronounced. "Did you think to call the police?" He fired, this time more gently. He looked him up and down, and decided that he didn't want an answer. "You've been partying again, haven't you?"

"Yeah." Edward muttered, crossing his arms. His grandfather didn't say anything, but walked up to him.

"Breathe."

Edward hesitated, knowing that if he did, his grandfather would smell the alcohol. But if this were what it was going to take to get the girl help, then he would do it. So, he did, letting loose a slight stench of beer, and waited for his grandfather's backlash.

"You're not drunk." His grandfather stated questioningly, and Edward shook his head. "Did you drive?" He nodded, not afraid of his grandfather's reaction.

The old man sighed as he walked over to the corner chair and sat in it, his wrinkly hand rubbing his withered forehead. He closed his eyes, and they waited for direction.

"Elizabeth, call Officer Jack. Ask him if he could make a house call. Then contact Mr. Ethans. See if he can come check her out when Mr. Jack is done here."

"What should I tell him about the girl?" His grandmother questioned, jerking her head to the motionless body.

"Tell him…" His grandfather thought for a second. "Tell him our son found a runaway passed out outside."

His grandmother left the room, taking the kitchen phone with her.

"Edward." His grandfather turned to face him with a weary expression. "I haven't thought of something just enough for what you did, especially after last time, but… make sure this doesn't happen again."

He replied in a hushed, reflective tone. "Yes, sir."

"And I would like you to talk to Mr. Jack if he asks. Tell him what you were doing, where you found her: anything that might help our situation." He nodded as his grandfather got up and left the room. Sighing, he sat down on the brick of the fireplace, looking at the girl draped helplessly on the couch. Under the dim light from the kitchen, he studied her once more.

She was like a nightmare. A girl washed in and out with barbed wire, cleaned thoroughly with a doubled edged knife. He shivered involuntarily, imagining the possible solutions. By this time, he convinced himself somehow that she was a runaway. In his mind, there wasn't any other explanation. But what could've been so bad for her to leave? Maybe it was a pure horror where she used to live. Or maybe, she just was tired of being buckled down in one place and needed to move. Did she leave anyone behind?

As he looked at her face, he was unsure. No one as beautiful as her could be single. She was like a renaissance painting: something beautiful despite the flaws, and something more meaningful beneath the skin.

A loud knock at the door interrupted his musing. He almost leapt off the fireplace, and headed for the doorway. He leaned against it solemnly as he listened to the conversation.

"…Grandson found her, correct?" The officer's voice was calm and affirmative as his pen scratched busily on a pad of paper. "Is he here?"

"Yes. I'll get him." The sound of his grandfather's slow shuffle alerted him and he walked to the door himself.

"Yes, officer?" The portly man looked so startled that Edward struggled to keep his face perfectly straight. He bit the corners of his lips to keep from grinning at the man in mirth.

Officer Jack was a familiar character in the town: his beady brown eyes were set between a pinched nose and plump cheeks with a wispy mustache aligning his lips. He watched at the man broadened his shoulders quickly in the faded blue uniform and straightened his tie, trying to gain a confident posture. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

He answered the man's questions with ease and civil words, all the while wondering what the officer would do. After telling him the story, the man asked if he had driven. He bit his lip: he knew he wasn't supposed to. Slowly he nodded. The officer frowned and reminded him that it was illegal. As Edward assumed a defensive state, his grandfather appeared from over his shoulder.

"Yes sir, he's highly aware of it. It's my fault: I was in desperate need of my medication and I had my grandson run out and get it for me." His grandfather help up a white paper bag, tagged with a pharmacy note, as evidence of the trip.

The boy was shocked at his grandfather's obvious lie, but the officer was convinced. "Since you have been my friend for a long time, Harry, and this boy has never gotten in real trouble before, then I'll let it slide. But one more time, my friend, and I shall have to bring your grandson in." Officer Jack flipped to the next page in his notepad, scrunching his face together in a silent check.

"Thank you." His grandfather replied to the man, and Edward's posture settled, more relaxed.

"Do not think of mentioning it. You've done many things for this town." The officer reminded him. His grandfather just smiled and disappeared. "Now, I would like to see the girl."

"Of course, officer." Edward led him through the hallway to the battered couch where she lay, as still as ever.

"Well, she's definitely bruised." He hid his grin once more at the keen observation, a sarcastic voice ringing in his head. _Thank you, Captain Obvious._ "Has Dr. Ethans arrived?" Officer Jack inquired, taking a seat as he scrawled his own assessment on the new piece of paper.

"Not yet. He said he'd be round in ten minutes, more or less." Edward's grandmother reappeared, her worried eyes flickering between the officer and the still girl on the couch. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?" She proposed, and he nodded.

"Some tea would be welcome, thank you." She left the room to set the kettle on, waiting for the water to boil. A few minutes after the heated kettle let loose an increasingly earsplitting shriek, a knock from the door informed the four that Dr. Ethans had arrived. Mr. Jack sipped his tea- black, no sugar or cream- patiently as Edward's grandmother fetched the doctor from the doorway.

The doctor was an old man. In fact, most of the grownups in his town were considerably old. Edward watched the doctor's wrinkled face frown in confusion as he checked the girl's pulse. His gray haired head was balding substantially, and his glasses did little to conceal the tired look in his eyes. Edward guessed that they had woken the man from a much-needed slumber, and felt little remorse. The old man bent to peer precariously at his subject, his bones seeming to creak with every movement.

"A compress, Elizabeth. And Tylenol for when she wakes." The doctor requested as he went through the standard procedure. His grandmother returned with a cold, slightly damp towel, and handed it to the doctor, who placed it on the girl's head. "If she doesn't wake in the next ten minutes, I'll drive her to the hospital and let you know how she's doing the next morning."

They watched intently, not really expecting anything. Edward's grandfather seemed to think she was dead, and he couldn't help but worry that she was. Had he imagined her pulse? He dared not to think that he had actually killed someone: the thought was too horrid and foreign. But he _had_ hit her pretty hard- she had fell down from their collision. He was lucky enough that he had slowed down, or he would've been in the middle of a blood bath.

Then, in the slightest of movements, she stirred.

Her body twitched, slowly regaining its strength. And then, after her head twisted a bit, her eyes fluttered open to reveal the soothing shade of melted chocolate. It was electrifying: Edward stood breathlessly as he stared at them.

Those exhilarating eyes wandered dazedly about the room, before she slowly raised her head. A frown filtered on her face as she lay back down and closed her eyes. Her lips formed barely coherent words that lingered above a whisper. "Where am I?"

Edward's stomach churned in a thick knot and his posture went rigid. His head spun wildly as something surged to the back of his throat. It was like his heart had leapt up his pipes and was clogging the back of his mouth. He didn't know what feeling was rising in him. All he knew was that he didn't like it: not one little bit.

Tiredly, he bid the people in the room a goodnight and swiftly turned to exit.

That night, he didn't get any sleep. His mind was centered on the girl. It was like nothing else mattered: not school, not friends, not family, not even his life. It was all about the girl.

She had become his personal axis mundi from the moment she opened her eyes.


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: Aw! Thanks for the reviews and the alerts!

I decided to put one of my favorite chapters up. Maybe you'll see why. Free cyber cookies to anyone who gets it right! (I don't have any cookies, but you are on fan fiction as readers and/or writers. You can imagine them!)

_Chapter One {Hell Hath No Fury}_

By the time the officer and doctor had finished their examinations and left, I was extremely fatigued and famished. On my run, I had not fed myself for two days straight, being too preoccupied with escaping from my personal hell. Mrs. Masen, the kind old lady who owned the farm I had ended up on, paid attention to my needs. "Come on now," She told me gently, after everyone had left, "Let's go get you cleaned up. Surely a shower would feel good, would it not?" I could only nod in response, feeling as awkward as a mule in a kitchen. I wasn't really used to her benevolence- it was never present in my former household- and speculated how she could not hate me for intruding in her life.

Still smiling, Mrs. Masen handed me a t-shirt and sweatpants, both neatly folded, and showed me to the bathroom upstairs. "When you're down, I'll have a bite to eat ready for you." I only nodded once more as I closed the door to her retreating back. Placing my clothes- both worn and new- on the toilet seat, I turned on the shower and stepped under the falling water.

It was surprisingly frigid at first- I could not help the small gasp that came with the icy chill down my back- but I waited for it turn to a more comfortable temperature patiently. Sure enough, tepid water soon cloaked me, and I washed the dirt from my skin and hair, watching as it slid in a murky swirl into the drain. My tongue licked my lips, moistening my chapped skin. Once freshened and dried, I slid on the clothes Mrs. Masen had given me. The t-shirt fell around me like a dress and the navy blue sweatpants were loose and long. But, they were as comfy as they were big. I hung the towel back up and exited, returning to the kitchen to see what Mrs. Masen would have me do next.

She greeted me with another smile, and I began to wonder if she was ever unhappy. Her eyes and manner seemed too bright to ever be dulled by a frown. Even though it is a rather odd characteristic, to be truthful, I found myself wishing that I would one day find the same happiness that graced her face even now. I wanted a happiness that would chase my nightmares away and keep them there.

I took the plate of toast and a fried egg, sitting down and eating it slowly. "So, sweetie, you never told me your name." She reminded me patiently. I froze: if I gave her my real name, then she could turn me back over to _them_. I didn't know if she knew undoubtedly that I was a runaway. She may have had her assumptions- as did the police officer, doctor, and Mr. Masen- but I had never told anyone my name. Thinking quickly, I cleared my dry throat and answered with an abbreviation.

"Bella."

Her eyebrows rose, interested in my reply. "That truly is a rather unique name." Then, she laughed lightly. "Well, then again, this town can feel rather small at times. I'm not sure that there isn't a child that isn't named Mike or Sarah."

I smiled slightly at that, continuing to take small bites of the lukewarm toast and egg. Mrs. Masen carried on to inform me of tomorrow's happenings. "We have a meeting with Officer Jenkins at 2:30; he would like to speak to you in length about your decisions and previous whereabouts. If we can and if you'd like, we will keep you here as a foster child and enroll you in our high school along with Edward." I felt something warm fill me: she said they wanted to keep me? I had never been wanted anywhere before by anyone-not by my parents, pupils, teachers, or neighbors- hence my reason for leaving. "For now, I prepared a bedroom for you upstairs. It was an extra anyway, so please don't regret it."

Finishing my food, she brought me to the bedroom. After remarking on how we would need to go and buy a few provision- a toothbrush, clothes, and such- she grinned once more at me. "Bella, dear?" I looked up to meet her eyes, inquisitive. "We would love it if you stayed." Smiling, I nodded and watch as she closed the door before slipping beneath the neat and folded bed linens. Then, finally, I slept a peaceful and dreamless sleep.

I awoke in a state of shock. Unaccustomed to quiet mornings, the silence was loud enough to wake me. I found it odd for a home to be so tranquil; it was strange to awake without the sounds of a television blaring or my harried mother screaming at my stepfather for not paying last month's bills. Had everyone died? It was my only rational explanation. As I wandered down into the kitchen, however, I found my hypothesis to be disproved.

Mrs. Masen had resumed her position in the kitchen once more, and she was delivering a tray of biscuits from a hot oven when I walked in. "Good morning." She said when she saw me. I smiled and nodded, before sitting down patiently. "How are you feeling?" She inquired and I reflected silently on my bruises, which I hadn't thought of until she had mentioned.

"Better than before, thank you."

"Would you like a biscuit? They're homemade." I nodded and she placed one on a napkin for me. "How about some tea or coffee?"

"Coffee, please." She grabbed a mug from the cabinet and poured the freshly brewed drink into it before placing it before me. Wrapping another two biscuits in a cloth and grabbing a glass of orange juice, she headed for the door. "I'm going to go give these to Mr. Masen." Hearing a little noise after she left, I surveyed the room for it. The sound had come from a television that had a little girl situated in front of it. Her straight black hair was cut short and tied back in a little ponytail. Her mouth gaped in awe at the show, her little eyes wide. Wearing pink and purple pajamas, she was the quintessence of a little girl. She turned suddenly and caught me staring. A slow grin spread across her youthful face as she jumped and ran over to me.

"Hi! I'm Alice!" She said brightly, her doe-like, sage eyes sparkling. "I'm seven _and_ three quarters!" Then, she looked at my arms, peering at them curiously. "Why are you purple? Did you get hurt?"

"Yes, I did. But I'm better now." I smiled and stuck out my hand. She shook it, giggling. "I'm Bella."

"Are you as old as Edward?" I shrugged, not knowing who or how old Edward was. The only thing I knew about him was that he had been driving his car when he bumped into me.

"He has a car. And he can drive." She added, hoping that this would increase my picture of him.

I could only shrugged once more. "Most likely."

"Do you like princesses?" She asked, hopping into the seat next to me and leaning closer, her eyes wide. She didn't wait for an answer. "Edward says that princesses are yucky and for girls. He won't play 'pretty pretty princess' with me. He's no fun." She cocked her head like a little bird and continued to chatter. "I like pink. Do you like pink? I like blue too. What color do you like? Do you like bunnies? I like bunnies…"

"Please Alice, let Bella eat." Mrs. Masen had returned, and she smiled at the little girl benignly. Thankful, I took a bite of the biscuit, letting it's succulent bread melt into my mouth. Alice pouted slightly, and left to watch the television once more, but not before asking me another question.

"Bella, can we play today? Can we?" I nodded and she squeezed me happily before flouncing off. It was hard to restrain my laughter. Then, I felt a peculiar wave of uneasiness, and I turned quickly to meet a pair of dangerous and cavernous emeralds. They glared at me venomously, and I felt my skin prickle. They belonged to a boy, looking not a year older than I, who was standing in the doorframe with a chilling scowl on his face. His bronze hair stuck up around his face in thick and chunky clumps, falling near his perfectly sculpted cheekbones and nose. If hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, than hell hadn't met _him_. I never felt such hatred focused on me in my entire life, except from my parents at times.

"Edward! You're up!" Mrs. Masen intervened, breaking the trance that had grown between us. So _this_ was Edward: the entire reason that I was still stuck on this godforsaken earth. My blood boiled and I bit my lip sharply to keep from exploding. I turned away from him quickly, becoming decidedly fascinated with the food on my plate. Slipping small bites of food into my mouth, I focused on pushing this demon out of my head. Mrs. Masen rambled on in the recesses of my mind, and I listened vaguely to her words. I wasn't terribly interested, for at the moment, all I could care about was getting Edward and my hatred for him off of my mind.

I thought of my favorite band- Brand New- but grew frustrated when I realized that Edward sharp looks ever so slightly resembled Jesse Lacey, the lead singer. Cursing, I sang my favorite song, but the image of Edward's green eyes could not be deterred. Swans, long and warm summers that I loved, the colors of fall, and ­Wuthering Heights all seemed to conjure up images of those piercingly hateful eyes. I gave up all hope as Mrs. Masen's voice called me back to reality.

"Bella, sweetie?" I looked and met her eyes uncertainly. "Do you need any Tylenol? The last two are probably wearing off around now." As she mentioned this, I felt the hot flash of searing pain flood through me, and nodded quickly as I choked back a sob. I was never one to deal well with pain.

Quickly grabbing the two white pills, I swallowed them ravenously and waited for the pain to stop. Mrs. Masen slid a bag of ice over the counter, commanding me to lie down on the couch and rest with the cold on my wounds for a while. I could only nod and stumble over to the sofa, feeling my strength weaken as the pain became unbearable. Placing the ice pack on my one knee, I closed my eyes, allowing the chill to take over me.

I must've fallen asleep for an hour or so, for when I woke, the house seemed to be peaceful and almost empty compared to the commotion at breakfast. It was even quieter than when I had first woken up, if that was even possible. I closed my eyes again, willing myself to make another attempt with rest. Someone began to shuffle around me, making for the other sofa, and turning the television on low. I opened my eyes to find Edward occupying the other couch. The blues and greens of a commercial splayed across his pale skin and penny hair as a callous glare was fixated on his face. I wondered if he ever smiled. His forest eyes were so hateful: like diamonds, they cut through you with a loathing passion. They rendered you weak and indifferent, and it was frightening to face them. But I knew that was where he gained control of awkward situations, where others met their downfall: his eyes. Looking into them was like swallowing a vial of arsenic and then trying to run a mile.

Suddenly, they flickered from the screen to meet mine. I gulped, feeling helplessly trapped in his gaze. Quickly, and sensibly, I turned away, pretending that he had not caught me gaping at him. But even as I concentrated on the television screen, I could still feel those eyes- those electrifying, evergreen eyes- boring into my back.

I didn't really know what he was watching: it was some sort of sitcom that wasn't extremely funny, but it wasn't unreasonably boring either. Sighing, I focused on the escalating cold on my leg, waiting for it to become fully numb. "Bella?"

Our heads both snapped towards the kitchen, and we stared at Mrs. Masen, expectant. "Are you ready to leave?" She asked tentatively, a coat draped over her arm and her hand motioning towards the doorway. Hiking my hair into a ponytail with a rubber band I had found earlier, I removed the ice from my leg, rising as I nodded and followed her outside.

The car was an old rusty corvette that had definitely seen better days. Its color-which I had guessed to have been blue at one point, judging by the paint residue- was faded considerably and its bumper hung rusted and slightly askew. I was amazed to find that it still ran well, for when Mrs. Masen started the engine, it hummed as cleanly and evenly as a brand new car. Catching my astonished glance, Mrs. Masen chuckled delightedly. "Edward's father." She explained before her voice turned slightly solemn. "He had a thing for cars, or, more specifically, engines."

I only nodded in response as she reversed down the dusty driveway and headed onto the rough pavement of the road. As we turned into the main part of town, headed for the police station, I got the gist of what kind of place it was: a clean-cut suburban town with just enough farms encircling it to give it a country flair. The family owned stores, which were becoming more frequent by the minute, had been thrown in with the occasional Wegman's or Dunkin Donut's.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Masen." Officer Jenkins rose from his chair upon us entering his office. He turned to me shortly after greeting Mrs. Masen. "How do you do, miss? I trust that you're feeling better now." He smiled at my nod and motioned for us to sit as he took out a few sheets of paper, filling them out like a doctor would. "What is your name, miss?"

"Bella." I responded coolly from my chair. His eyebrows rose slightly, but penciled it in.

"Last name?"

Frowning, I gave him my answer. "Not applicable." I would not go back to that shit hole: lying was just one of my escape methods.

He grunted as he filled that in too, obviously unsatisfied. "Parents or guardian?"

I deliberated my answer. "Dead and none." Well, dead to me, at least. He looked at me swiftly. "They died in a car crash a while ago." That fact, at least, was half true. "I don't have any existing relatives, to the best of my knowledge."

"I'm sorry. It must've been very hard to lose them." I only shrugged: they didn't matter to me, so how could it? "Well, then. Would you like to tell me how you got your bruises?"

Lying with ease, I responded. "I fell down the stairs at school. I didn't see the wet floor sign."

He only looked at me suspiciously. "Okay. Why did you run away?"

I paused, having to think before answering. "I don't know." My tone came out distant and thoughtful. "I just started running, and I never stopped." It was the truth; as much as I would've liked to say that I ran away because I hated my family, it was more of a spur of the moment thing.

Officer Hardy finished jotting down my last response, and sighed rather loudly. His ruffled his hair, obviously tired by the purple lines circling his bottom eye, and looked at me once more. "Is there anything you wish to tell me?" He tried benignly, his eyes concerned. "Anything at all that could help us help you?"

I thought. I reviewed any possible answers as I stared at the wall behind him. Did I want to tell him the truth? No. Did I even want to tell him anything that happened to me? Another definite no. Returning my gaze to his, I answered firmly. "No, there is nothing else."

Shopping was never one of my preferred pastimes. I rarely made appearances at the mall with my friends back at the hellhole, but that was mostly because I had so little. Too be truthful, I despised fashion. What was the point of looking nice if peers would ridicule you on some other aspect any way? My bulky, long sleeved shirts were like a shield from the outside world, protecting me from anything that would want to bruise me more. As were my comfy, yet ragged sweatpants and jeans. As I grew older, I strayed from the form fitting short-sleeved shirts, feeling secure in the oversized fabric of a hoodie two sizes too big. So, when Mrs. Masen proffered trendy tees and skinny jeans, I was beyond my comfort zone.

"It'll be alright." She had told me as she stocked me with yet another slender t-shirt. "You'll look perfectly fine. I may be old, but I still know what looks good and what doesn't." I bit my lip, looking downcast at the pile of clothes that were increasing rapidly. She caught my expression, and immediately questioned me. "Are you alright sweetie? Did the medication wear off?"

"I'm fine." I commented quietly. "I was just wondering if it would be possible to get some long-sleeved shirts." She looked at me confused, about to protest that the temperatures hadn't reached below sixty yet. "I get cold very easily." Mrs. Masen obviously bought the last lie, for she smiled once more, inquiring as to why I had held my tongue about it, and happily led me to the long-sleeved shirt section. We picked out a few bland thermals of white, black, dark blue, and forest green before selecting jeans and sweatpants.

I was extremely grateful to say in the least. Gaping at my new clothes in shock as we returned to the car, I asked her if there was any way I could repay her. She just laughed, and told me not to worry my pretty little head. "Besides," she explained as she gave me a grin, "Edward and Alice don't let me fuss over them that much anymore."

The metallic snap of a can being opened jolted me awake. I sat up, groggily, searching for the source. Apparently, I had fallen asleep on the couch again. Head spinning, I groaned and lay back down on the cushions of the couch: I really needed to stop falling asleep at random times and not recall the reason why. Feeling the swarm of pain in my head subside, I turned to view whoever had come into the kitchen.

It was Edward.

Instantly, a glare pulled onto my features. The hatred seeped back into my heart as he turned to glower at me in return.

"Bella." He said, nonchalantly. He tilted the red can of coca-cola to his lips, taking a sip.

"Edward." I responded curtly, twisting back to my prior position on the couch. I felt his dour gaze on my back once more, causing my mind to inflame. Turning wildly once more, I spat at him. "Would you stop doing that?" My tone irate and bothered, I continued. "I know you hate me, for you've made it abundantly clear. And I can tell you that the feeling is completely mutual. But, it's unreasonable for you to constantly glare at me. Show some propriety for Pete's sake. I try to, but find it utterly impossible when you refuse to stop scowling at me."

I was pretty sure that his jaw dropped. He looked at me, in pure shock, before crossing the room, seething. He leered at me, his face so close I could smell the sugary breath of soda on his tongue. "You're right. I hate you. But let me tell you something, _princess_. I'm not going to conceal my feelings; not until you learn how to act too. If you're going to glare at me, then I will most certainly return the favor."

"You are such a blockhead. I did not start it. You did; this morning, when you first came down for breakfast, you glared at me." I retorted nastily, feeling victorious.

"But I also glared at my grandmother. I'm not exactly a morning person, princess." His snap made me quickly clamp down on my tongue. Smirking, he pulled away from me and settled on the opposite couch.

But I wasn't going to comment; I would be the better person in the situation. Inhaling deeply, I calmly asked him in an attempt to be civil, "So you're in the same grade as me?"

"I guess," was his stuffy, smart reply. Rolling my eyes, I tried again.

"What happened to your parents?" He turned to gape at me incredulously, and I quickly fixed the question. "I mean, why are you and your sister living with your grandparents?"

His face grew stolid as he slipped into a cold reserve. "What happened to yours?" Seeing my glare, he rolled his eyes and explained. "They died in a car crash. It was a bunch of teenagers that hit them; the driver was drunk, and they all got away unscathed. My parents weren't so lucky. My father was killed instantly from the impact. My mother spent two weeks in the hospital in coma before she died. Since my dad didn't having any living family, we came to the country to live with my mother's parents."

I opened my mouth to speak. "That-"

"I don't need your fucking pity." Edward interrupted angrily, and I grew offended once more.

"For your information, smartass, I was not going to offer _pity_." Shocked, I paused, letting my words sink in. "If your head wasn't so far up your stinking ass, you would've noticed that people in this world have it a lot fucking worse than you do." He turned to stare at me, stunned to say the least.

Suddenly, a look of realization crossed his face. "Is that why you ran away? Because your parents died?"

"No!" I lied indignantly. "And I didn't run away. I was just…_jogging_." Seeing his doubtful expression, I quickly added to the lie. "And I got lost."

He looked at me, his tone in disbelief. "So you got lost, and just kept jogging in the same direction, for practically two days?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"Sure princess." He replied sarcastically, but dropped the subject. The silence was awkward, and I couldn't think of anything to say to make it less weird. Then, the heavy drone of a cell phone emanated from Edward. He drew out a sleek black phone and flipped it open, answering tiredly. "Hello?"

I closed my eyes, not wanting to look like I was eavesdropping, because I wasn't. It's not my fault that his voice was very distracting. His voice carried into my thoughts, and it was all I could do but listen. "Oh hey, man. What's up?" He paused as the person on the other line answered. "So you heard? Well, fuck, man. She was a slut." Edward sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, well he's an idiot…yeah, I knew that…Okay. Thanks man, see you."

Opening my eyes, I looked curiously over at him. His face was contorted with an odd emotion, and me, being the idiot that I am, opened my big, fat, stupid mouth. Sometimes, it just has a mind of its own. "So what was that about?" I immediately cursed myself: I hadn't meant to listen in. I just couldn't help it.

He cocked an eyebrow at me suspiciously, but sighed once more. "You know last night? When I found you?" Not sure where it was going, I nodded. "Well, I had actually been drinking." My eyes must've widened in alarm, for he quickly explained. "I never really drink a lot. I'll drink at a few parties, and I've been caught a few times, but I never really gotten extremely drunk. Anyways, I was at this party of a friend of mine's. There was tons of booze, but I didn't take any, I just went to go look for my girlfriend." His stolid facial expression changed as he recalled the memory. "And I found her: she was in a dark bedroom, making out with my best friend." He stopped as his mood soured, pausing for a second. "So I drank a bit, because I was pissed off, and I left." He ran a hand through his hair, messing up the black strands. "Emmett just called me, saying that she wanted to know if I was angry. She told him to tell me that she was sorry, and drunk, and if I could just find it in my heart to forgive her…" He trailed off, and I frowned.

"Well, she sounds like a bitch."

A small smirk flitted on his face. "Glad that we agree on something." He drained the rest of the coca-cola before setting it down on the coffee table and staring blankly at it.

Mrs. Masen called for dinner, and we resumed ignoring each other.

A/N: Was it bad? Was it good? And no, I'll not start a rhyme with another "was it" type question. My head's exploded.

Well…not really.

Review! You know you want to!"

(Oh darn.)

And I apologize for the cussing, for anyone who's offended. The worst has yet to come (how about that for foreshadowing?).


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews! You know I love them!

I'm going to try and put more chapters up, but I'm leaving for Naples, FL soon, so I can't promise anything.

Oh yeah, I really hate the title of this chapter. If anyone has any ideas, then feel free to let me know. I'd love to hear what you think!

_Chapter Two {Breathing in Small Spaces}_

I could scarcely believe that I was going to high school once more. I was still digesting the thought as I calmly brushed through my dull brown hair while sitting on my bed. Monday arrived within the blink of an eye, and I wasn't ready. Then again, there wasn't that much warning to my new beginning. The weekend had moved by leisurely and uneventfully. I had arrived on a Friday night and went through another unnecessary doctor's appointment. After the doctor confirmed once more that nothing was wrong with me physically, I had a boring meet-and-greet with the principal on Sunday about last minute changes to my schedule.

Then again, that wasn't exactly the whole truth. Saturday night in itself was the most eventful out of my entire weekend, and it was probably because I was scared to death.

After dinner that night, I had just finished brushing my teeth and checking my face in the mirror in the bathroom. Edward was still ignoring me, and I didn't have to look up at him to know that his cold glare had been concentrated on me during the entire dinner. Honestly, I didn't understand why he just couldn't get a grip. It was only slightly irksome, but I figured I'd better get used to it…only until I was ready to leave, that is. In the meantime, I'd just leave him alone.

I pulled my hair back into a loose ponytail and checked to make sure the strands were all tucked in. Then, I splashed a bit of cold water on my face from the faucet. It felt good and cooling, and I revealed in how it shocked me awake, if only for a moment. Dripping cold water onto the pallor of the bathroom sink, I reached over and rubbed my skin dry with a towel. Suddenly, the door behind me clicked open. My wide eyes flew to the mirror to look at who was behind me in alarm. To say that I was surprised to see a more than terrified, stoic, dripping wet Edward standing there in the gap of the doorway would be an understatement.

The bedroom that the Masens had given me was connected to a bathroom. My door to the bathroom opened up to a sink and two other doors: one door led to the toilet and shower area, the other door I had never opened, so I assumed it to be a closet. But if it was a closet, then why was Edward standing in the doorway, looking just as shocked as I was?

One word ran through my mind: shit.

I knew I shouldn't have looked, but my hormones had taken control, forcing my eyes to scrape over him and get their fill. He was beyond beautiful. A white towel sagged around his waist, leaving a newly washed chest all mine for the gazing.

Not that I liked him that way.

Edward was just, well, Edward, and extremely gorgeous at that. I was pretty sure that from the moment he came into view, he had put a whole new spin on the famous phrase: "every girl's wet dream".

Only then did I realize that Edward and I had Jack and Jill bedrooms, which meant that I had to share a bathroom with a _boy_ for my entire stay. I'd have to be on the guard at all times; maybe poke my head in the next time I decided to brush my teeth. Or knock. Sharing a bathroom was only going to make avoiding him even harder, and that I regretted immensely.

Recalling this, I made sure I had my clothes on before I stepped into the bathroom to check my reflection. Slipping on a pair of jeans and a plain gray shirt, I walked hesitantly in. He wasn't there. Sighing in relief, I turned and made sure my hair was brushed to decency- a major feat- before heading downstairs.

"How are you feeling?" Mrs. Masen jumped to questions as soon as my feet touched the bottom step.

"Okay, I guess." That was a complete and utter lie. I felt nauseous and lightheaded, and began debating if eating would either make me vomit or settle my nerves. Settling on a granola bar, I sat down and slowly crunched on my breakfast.

Edward hobbled down the stairs not a moment later. He was clad in dark blue jeans and a plain black t-shirt. His backpack was slung over his shoulder lightly, and he turned to glance at the clock. He smirked at me, emerald eyes crackling, before remarking nonchalantly as he headed for the door, "Bus."

I swore in my head as I pocketed a few bills from Mrs. Masen for lunch and hastened after him. The front porch door swung shut while she called goodbye. We practically ran to the end of the long and dusty driveway. I was panting heavily as the yellow bus rolled up. Edward, on the other hand, did not look the least bit tired. His eyes shone brightly, although his face was set in a grimace, and he barely seemed worn out from the run. Scowling, I stepped on after him.

The bus was empty with the mere exception of three people: a boy casually sitting in the back with a bored expression, a helpless looking girl with wide eyes beneath chunky glasses, and another girl with long blonde hair and overdone makeup. The blonde looked up immediately when we entered the bus, her hungry cat eyes securing on Edward's form and following him as he sat down across from the boy in the back. Her body stance moved to attempt an alluring look as Edward passed, her eyes fluttering up at him. It was extremely ridiculous.

Sniggering at her antics, I took a seat close to the front of the bus and sat down as it started to move shakily down the road. I was suddenly grateful that I hadn't decided to eat that much.

Though it was a silly thought, I couldn't help but feel watched throughout the entire bus ride. I glanced up to the bus driver's mirror to see the other teenagers staring at me. The blonde was glaring; her face turned in an ugly sneer. The boy was more casually staring, almost as if as he was curious as to why he'd never seen me before. The last girl with the frizzy hair gaped at me; her jaw hung loosely and comically while her eyes pinned me to my seat. Sighing at the hateful, curious, and gaping faces, I turned away. Pressing my cheek to the cool glass of the window, I silently begged for the bus ride to be over as soon as possible.

I hate the bus.

xxx

Two twists twenty-six, turn counter clockwise, eight, turn clockwise, thirty-four and…nothing.

I swore adamantly, cursing the wretched locker. A girl standing next to me was laughing quietly. Sniggering, she brushed my hand away. "You're doing it wrong." She informed me as she swiped the card from my hand that held my combination. She dialed in the first two numbers, and told me to watch as she put in the third. "Now go past it slowly…hear that clicking sound?" I nodded attentively. "Good. Then you pull slightly, and, voila!" She grinned as the locker popped open, holding her hand up in a flourish. "They ancient lockers. Everyone has trouble with them."

Gaping, I murmured my thanks. "No problem." She replied heartily. "I'm Angela, by the way. Angela Weber."

"Bella Swan." I answered, smiling.

She started to fiddle with a lock next to mine, her dark brown hair swinging down to cover her face. "Well then," She began conversationally, "I guess this means your in my homeroom." I cocked my head questioningly, and she frowned. "You mean you don't know? People on the same locker row are in the same homeroom. So everyone with a locker near ours will be with us in homeroom. Because this school is so damn small, we have," She paused her features scrunching up in a quizzical look. "Around ten people per homeroom. You kind of hate them all at first, but they grow on you, so its okay. We're one big happy family." I didn't have time to ask her is she was being sarcastic or not, because the chime of a bell followed her last sentence. I looked at her confused, but she merely chuckled. "That's the first bell. It means we have ten minutes until homeroom."

I watched as she stocked her backpack with various binders with assorted colors. "Do you want me to wait for you?"

"Yes. Please." I answered, grinning brightly. She smiled back. Once her backpack was loaded, we left the stolid row of red lockers.

As we approached the open door of our homeroom, I froze. A familiarly messy copper shock of hair informed me that was Edward was in the room. And I had been so hoping that he wouldn't be there. Angela tossed me a curious look, eyeing me suspiciously upon hearing my groan, but eventually turned around.

The teacher, a plump woman with hideously chopped ginger hair, peered at Angela inquisitively from the top of her magazine. When we got closer, I realized it wasn't Angela she was staring at, but me. I tried to smile, but it came out as a wince. "Mrs. Mack? This is Bella Swan." Angela took the liberty of speaking for me.

The questioning looked waned from her wrinkled face. "Oh." Setting the magazine down, she quickly fumbled through a stack of papers before drawing out five sheets. "Here's your schedule, set of school rules, and some forms that need your parent or guardian to sign."

I accepted the papers and followed Angela to a pair of seats in the back of the class. She settled her olive messenger bag beside her chair after taking out her schedule. "Want to trade schedules?" She offered with a shy smile. I grinned, switching mine with hers, and began sifting through her classes.

"Looks like we've got Latin together." She determined after a cursory glance. Thanking the fates quietly, I beamed back at her.

After taking another glance at my own schedule, I grew confused: there was not an allotted time period for lunch. Did they not expect us to eat? "What about lunch?"

"Lunch?" She asked, bewildered, before finally comprehending. "Oh, right. Basically, lunch is in the middle of fifth period. The whole school eats together; I guess that's why they never bothered to fit it in." Angela shrugged as an ending to the topic.

"Interesting." I remarked, fiddling through my other papers as a boy approached. He took a seat across from Angela and I, flipping us a cool grin. She sighed exasperatedly.

"Get lost, Cheney." She shot at the boy. His brown eyes only rolled, sparkling as a mocking expression crept onto his plain features.

"Miss Weber, I am completely astonished." I couldn't help but notice the boy's brown hair was disheveled and his white teeth prominent. At first glance, it was obvious that he was one of the more sought after boys in the school. "To think that you, a _lady_," He sneered, "Would turn away a longtime friend?"

"Friend?" She jeered, seething at the idea.

"Fine, I shall use the appropriate term," His face broke its solemn hold as his lips rolled the 'l'. "_Lover_."

I could tell by Angela's reaction that this was a very touchy subject. "You, Ben, are not and could never be my _lover_. You are an intolerable, moronic, narcissistic, masochistic fiend." Ben frowned and slouched.

"Oh, tough luck there, Cheney." A brown haired boy interjected, laughing at his friend's predicament. Ben only scowled at him vehemently.

"Shut the hell up, McCarty." He exclaimed rudely, at which point, the teacher's head snapped up like a hawk's.

"Language!" She warned menacingly before returning to her magazine. Ben made a crude impression of her behind her back, and eventually took his seat as the announcements came on.

The principal's voice came through on the loudspeaker centered at the front of the room and adjacent from the digital clock. He began by welcoming the students back from the long weekend- I observed later that Friday had been an in-service day- and then introduced two students who would read off the announcements to the school. The students, a boy and a girl, rambled on about upcoming dances, club meetings, and the latest scores in high school sports. Even though their voices were upbeat and interesting enough, I couldn't keep up with the slow announcements. I tuned it out, and scoped the classroom instead.

I caught sight of Edward sitting near Ben- the brown haired narcissist- and the other joking brunette. They were talking quietly amongst themselves, and every once in a while; I caught Ben cast longing looks over towards Angela. Either she was completely oblivious to them, or she ignored him wholly. Then, green eyes caught my own.

I sucked in a breath and turned away. Angela cast another suspicious look at me, but I ignored it. I would tell her once we were safely out of his parameter.

Three minutes and forty-six seconds later, the intercom buzzed off as the bell rang for class. Sighing with relief, I grabbed my bag and followed her out the door.

"So," I hesitated, unsure of what I would say, or how I would say it.

"Yeah?" She looked at me expectantly.

"What's with Edward Masen?"

Her responding glare made it seem like that was the wrong thing to ask. I was about to take it back and ask something else, but she waved me off. "Edward is one of those dark and quiet types; one of the ones that all the girls faun over, but can never get. Well, one girl did get him- Tanya Denali- but she cheated on him last weekend with one of his best friends." I nodded, already knowing that part of the story. "Even though he's a good guy, he's still not that good of a guy to be crushing on, because he won't notice you. One of my old friends just about broke her heart while wasting her time on him," She elaborated.

"And then there's the matter of his friends: Emmett McCarty, Rosalie Hale, and Ben Cheney." Her face turned incredibly sour when she mentioned Ben, as if she'd bitten a rotten piece of fruit or spied a criminal in the act. "Miserable, good-for-nothing, son of a-" I interrupted her muttering.

"Angela?" I inquired gleefully.

Her head snapped up quickly. "What?" Then, realizing her sidetracking, she frowned. "Oh, right. Why were you asking about Edward anyways?"

"Uh, since I kind of moved in with him?" I stated unsurely.

"What?" She took this the wrong way. Her voice lowered to a scalding whisper. "Did he get you pregnant at some party? That bastard! You're parents probably kicked you out once they realized you were having a baby, right?" Irate, she continued. But I couldn't stop her; my throat was too clogged up with laughter. Every meager attempt to speak or poke her went by unnoticed. "The nerve of him; having a one-night stand with you and getting you knocked up!"

"Angela?" I managed to croak out. "You watch way too many soap operas." Her face froze and began turning the light pink of a blush. "Actually, my mom's been a longtime friend of the Masens. We're moving, and it would make it harder to have me around her while packing, so she sent me here for a little while. I was just wondering if he acts rude to only me."

Once the shock left her face, she replied. "No, not really." She cleared her throat. "I mean, he's a nice guy, so I don't know why he would be anything but nice to you…" Trailing off, she shrugged. "I'm sure that it doesn't mean anything. Maybe he's just having a bad day."

Having a bad day? More like three bad days in a row. Maybe he was PMS-ing.

"Oh, before I forget, are you a homophobic?"

I snorted. "No." I couldn't stand people like that. They were all stuck up, and in my opinion, just as bad as some other people in history.

"Good." She determined happily as we stepped through the entry of our next class: Latin with Mr. Clarke. "That means you'll love Mike!"

xxx

I had English right before lunch, and by that time, it appeared that I would survive through the day without Edward in any of my classes. When I took my seat and waited as the other students poured in before the bell, I realized I was sadly mistaken.

When he walked in, I all but died on the spot. Stiffening, I refused to look at him, and cursed the fates for such unfortunate events. I barely listened to the teacher and ignored the world as much as possible. But when my name was called alongside Edward's, I snapped to attention.

From a cursory observation, I noticed that people had been paired off into groups of two and sitting next to each other. Edward- I realized a moment after- was to be my partner. Groaning, I grabbed a pencil and a sheet of paper before heading over to him.

"What are we doing?" I whispered as soon as I had taken my seat.

Edward only looked at me scrupulously, as if surprised that I hadn't been listening. "We're interviewing each other using the questions on the board."

"But it's practically October." I stated uncertainly. "Shouldn't that have been done at the beginning of the year?" It was more of a first-day, get-to-know-your-neighbor type of activity. Shouldn't we have been past that by now?

"Apparently," He began, lowering his voice as the teacher's eyes swept towards us. "We are writing an essay on the basic fundamentals of our partner in order to promote friendship." He rolled his eyes.

I sniggered; friendship between Edward and I was bloody likely.

He looked pensively at the paper, chewing the end tip of his pencil. "I think this is supposed to be a type of biography, so how about we start with the basics?" His green eyes flitted up to meet mine. "You know; the date of your birthday, where you were born?" He didn't seem to want to wait for any response. "Then we can move onto the more personal stuff, like favorite bands, color, etc. Sound good?"

"Uh," I gaped at the paper, stunned by the sudden flow of words from him. "Yeah, sure."

"Good." He said, bringing his pencil down to meet the white skin of the paper. "Birth date?"

"April 7th."

He jotted it down, lead flowing quickly and cleanly. "Location of birth?"

"Seattle, Washington." My answers became robotic as the lies flowed easier and easier from my mouth.

"How about your family?" He paused, looking up from the paper.

My lips pursed. "I think you know that one." He flushed slightly in turn, though I couldn't figure out why.

"Oh, right." He tapped the pencil thoughtfully on the desk, making resounding clicking noises, before asking me more questions. "How about childhood memories? Do you have any notable ones to share?"

I could barely remember my childhood- I had an involuntary habit of suppressing unpleasant memories- so I shook my head and waited for the next question. It felt better to lie as little as possible than to fib my entire life.

"Okay, so how about your top three favorite bands?"

"Brand New, Something Corporate, and Third Eye Blind." I had decided not to lie, for it wouldn't reveal anything important about my last life.

He didn't say anything, but I could tell that he was surprised for a second or two; and happily surprised, at that. "So what about your favorite movie?"

"The Breakfast Club." I answered, not missing a single beat as my facial features broke into a small smile. It had to be, without a doubt, the best movie I had ever seen: even if it was over a decade old. I knew the script by heart, and found myself reciting lines to people at random times. Edward managed a chuckle at that. "You like it too."

"Yeah," He answered easily as he wrote it down. "It's one of my favorites." I smiled; maybe we weren't so different after all. With time, we could even be on friendly terms.

The sensible side of my mind then decided to make an intervention. Pushing the thoughts out of my head, I clamped down on my bottom lip and waited for his next inquiry.

"What's your favorite food?"

"Mint chocolate chip ice cream. Definitely the best."

His grin grew wider. "I'll have to remember that."

Edward had an amazing smile. I didn't know why I hadn't noticed it before. Maybe it was because of his distractingly strange case of bipolarity. Anyhow, I never saw this side of him…the kind, smiling, warm side. I liked it.

My mind reeled: had I just admitted to liking something about Edward?

No, it was the hormones. Nothing else.

I watched dazedly, stuck in the doldrums of my own muddled thoughts, as his lips spoke the next question.

Green eyes looked at me. "Bella?" I didn't know if I was imagining the concern in them or not.

"Yeah?"

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

This charade continued for a while, and I wasn't able to tell the truth as often. Then, after what I had thought would be an excruciatingly long fifteen minutes, the bell sounded for lunch.

xxx

When we entered the lunch line at ten to twelve, all I could see was apples: green, red, and yellow apples. There was a huge pyramid of shiny ones on the middle counter, with a sign proclaiming 50 cents per apple. I took a green one gingerly from the pile, not wanting to wreck the carefully stacked display, paid the approximate amount to the cashier, and exited with Angela. "We'll sit over there." She pointed to a table far off in the corner of the cafeteria. We made a beeline for it, sitting down with our trays and claiming it before anyone else could sit down.

I reached for my apple and took a bite, chewing slowly as a tall, blonde-haired boy sat down. "Hey, newbie!" The boy said, sitting down with a wide grin. "Didn't know that Angela would pick you up so early."

After swallowing, I replied. "Neither did I. We have lockers next to each other." He smiled at me. "I'm Bella. And you must be…Mike, right?"

"The one," He tossed his hair like the girl in the Herbal Essence's commercial. "And only." He then not so stealthily stole a French fry from Angela's plate. She rolled her eyes as he popped it in his mouth, savoring the flavor.

"No, actually I meant my other gay friend." We watched as Mike's drama increased. He looked shocked to say the least, holding as hand to his heart as he pretended to die on the floor. "God, you beefcake. Get up." Angela demanded.

He complied, scrambling to sit once more on the plastic seat. Angela turned to face me. "So, tell us more about you." I took another bite of my apple before setting it down.

When I answered, I decided to put in as little lies as possible. "Well, I was born in Seattle. My dad was in the paper-business. My mom was an artist and she sold her paintings rarely. When I was about five, they split up. A year later, my dad died." I looked down at my hands, remembering my mournful memories; those painful bits of my childhood blocked me from remembering any happy times. "My mom eventually told me that they didn't really get a divorce; she said that they told me that so it was easier than telling me that he had cancer." Tears threatened to break their hold from the edges of my eyelashes. I blinked furiously a few times to rid myself of them, taking deep breaths to calm myself. Then, the lies started.

"My mom dropped her job as an artist to get a higher paying job because we would be eventually in debt. She got a new job, so we're moving. Which comes back to why I'm here."

The table fell silent, something that I had become used to hearing upon my arrival. Angela opened her mouth, as if to speak, but closed it once more as her gaze fixed itself on the middle of the table. Mike spoke uneasily. "Well, that was one hell of a history." He suddenly perked, eyes glinting slyly. "So, any boyfriends?"

This question seemed to snap Angela out of her trance. She gave a dry laugh, attempting to be the least bit happy. "Mike here is obsessed with romance." She sighed, apparently annoyed. "The reason why he is asking is because he wants to know if they were any hot guys at your old school."

Sniggering, I answered. "No, none at all."

"Too bad." Mike remarked, actually looking disappointed. "Well, at least there's still Jacob Black."

"Mike," Angela stated warily, giving him a questioning look. "He does have a girlfriend, you know."

"I know that." Mike retorted stuffily, looking like someone had ruffled his feathers. "He just hasn't come out of the closet." He took Angela's chocolate milk; sipping it innocently, before placing it back on her tray and grinning broadly. She just groaned and banged her head against the table.

xxx

After dinner, I laid down on my bed, weary from the exhausting first day of school. The plush green and yellow quilt engulfed me in a sea of warmth that the house had not been able to provide. It was only fall, and since the house didn't have a heating system, I could only imagine what the winter would be like.

I took my time in studying my room. I had never really looked at it before- the only times I had been in it were to sleep or get changed- and attempted to familiarize myself with it.

Ebony furniture adorned the bare walls, as did one large window, which was really two smaller ones connected, next to my bed. The walls themselves were nothing special; the color of coffee with an abnormal amount of cream in it, they blended strangely with the green, yellow, and white theme of the bed. The spread was girly, in a classy and dignified way. I could tell that Mrs. Masen had made sure that it was adequate, for the pillows and comforter were plush. I buried my face in the soft pillows, inhaling the light scent of lilac that tinged its cover.

The room seemed relatively snug, even though it was smaller than my last one. But that didn't matter; I was always used to small spaces. For some odd reason, I liked curling up in the tiny crevices, hiding my body from view in space that held only enough room for me. When I was younger, I would run away from my mother and hide in a tiny corner: under the desk, beneath the chair, behind a curtain, or wherever I could squeeze myself into. I would crawl into my thoughts, and funnily, even though the squeeze was tight, I always had enough space to actually breathe.

The room also helped delay the thoughts of worry that pervaded my mind. Every lie I had told that day was weighing me down like thick cement, and I couldn't help but grow anxious at the thought that my alias would be ripped to shreds and I would be sent back to my hell.

As I turned to face the pair of windows that were overlooking the golden stalks fraying the edges of the worn green of the lawn, I realized something:

Each lie I told had become a red brick, thickly laced with mortar. They stacked on top of each other, in neat rows, as my encasing became larger. They swallowed me whole, cutting off most of my space so I could barely move. And if one thing were going to become harder for me during my stay, it would be breathing in small spaces.

A/N:

Okay, Okay, I know.

Mike's not gay in the book, and he most certainly doesn't have a crush on Jacob Black.

I couldn't help myself!

Besides, I'm kind of mixing the characters up a bit. Changes _must_ be made. You probably won't see/hear a lot from Rosalie, Jasper, Carlisle, Esme, or Emmett for that matter. But Alice is still here!

Anyways, please review! They're better than chocolate!

…Sometimes


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